


Not Yours or Anyone's

by deltorafray



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Married Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter's in love with Tony and angsty about it, Secret Relationship, Songfic, Spanish song, Tony cheats on Pepper with Peter, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltorafray/pseuds/deltorafray
Summary: Songfic. Tony cheats on his wife. Peter reflects on his secret relationship with Tony.Set to the song Ni De Ti Ni De Nadie by Becky G
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	Not Yours or Anyone's

**Author's Note:**

> I used google to translate the lyrics. If you speak Spanish and find that there’s some mistranslations feel free to hit me up and I’ll make the appropriate edits. I really love this song and would hate for it to be mistranslated.

_Si quieres probar puedo ser tu mejor secreto_

_If you want to try I can be your best secret_

The hotel room is beautiful, probably. The hotel rooms where they meet in secret are always beautiful, spacious, and luxurious. Not that Peter’s wasting any time admiring it. Tony only has an hour or two before he’s expected at home, so their kisses are hurried, their hands are clumsy in their haste to tear each other’s clothes off. The urgency only heightens their passion and hunger. Tony’s impatience when he pushes Peter up on the large, plush bed gets him hotter like nothing else.

Turned over on all fours, Peter gasps into the sheets as slick fingers find his hole, opening him with rough, perfunctory movements. It’s too much, too soon, but Peter’s so turned on at knowing that Tony wants him so bad, that the man can hardly wait to get inside him, that Peter takes it without complaint. Tony’s cock pushes its way into Peter’s body, leaving him breathless and unbearably full.

“Fuck, you’re always so tight for me, baby,” Tony groans, sinking into a hard, frantic rhythm pretty much right away.

Peter’s reduced to a mewling, moaning mess, gripping the sheets as the older man takes pleasure in his body.

_Pero no te enamores de mí, que no me comprometo_

_But don't fall in love with me, I don’t commit_

Peter comes two more times, once in Tony’s mouth, and one more time with Tony pinned underneath him, his large hands guiding Peter’s bouncing on his dick.

Peter collapses on the bed next to Tony, breathing hard, and the other man tucks him under his arm, holding him close. Peter lays his head on Tony’s shoulder and he feels him lay a gentle kiss on his forehead. The tenderness makes him smile and he tilts his face up to capture his lips.

Peter tries not to let it get to him, but the contrast of the soft, slow kisses and the lazy make-outs to the hard, ruthless fuck that precedes them messes up his head a little. There’s warning bells ringing in the back of his mind even as he basks in the sunshine of Tony’s affection, the way his lips slide across his, teeth nipping gently, Tony’s arms strong and secure around him, rubbing soothing circles up and down his back.

When he pulls away breathlessly, he sees Tony looking at him with those warm brown eyes, framed with the thickest, most beautiful lashes Peter has ever seen on a grown man. Peter melts under those eyes. He could stay like this forever, just looking at him.

But then …

“I gotta go, baby,” Tony says with a sigh. “Pepper’s gonna start wondering where I am.” He gets up and starts putting his clothes back on. “I’ll text you, yeah?” Then with a quick peck to Peter’s forehead, he exits the room, leaving Peter naked and used on the bed.

_Así que no me des labia porque esa táctica ya me la sabía_

_So don't talk to me because I already knew that tactic_

In another life, another story, it would’ve been a meet-cute. An accidental switch in coffee orders led to banter, prolonged conversation in a secluded corner of the café, an exchange of numbers with promises of more. But a glance revealed a wedding ring, a light touch on the thigh told Peter he wants him anyway, a whisper, “wanna get outta here?”, and a nod sealed their fate.

When they kiss and rut against each other in the backseat of an Audi R8, hidden under the veil of dark tinted windows, Peter moans and sighs the man’s name, feeling so good, so delirious in the pleasure that only Tony can wring out of him.

When they meet up, time and time again, unable to stay away from each other, it’s always heated, heightened, the way they crash into each other, like a thunderstorm breaking after a long built-up pressure. They release like rain, like a soothing balm on the friction of their lives, taking pleasure, taking comfort in each other.

When Peter threads his fingers through the spaces between Tony’s, touching lightly at the gleaming gold band, tugging at it until it catches under his knuckle, the man says, “I’ve been thinking of getting a divorce. Been thinking about it for a while. Seems like I got more of a reason to now.”

But as Peter always comes running with just a ring on his phone, Tony always makes him come with the ring still on his finger.

_Y nada cambia esta historia, si quiere' la pasamo' bien un rato y ya_

_And nothing changes this story, if you want to 'have a good time' for a while and that’s it_

The lady on TV absolutely gushes over them. _What a power couple, owner and CEO of Stark Industries!_ she effuses over footage of the Starks stepping out of a dark Rolls Royce Phantom and onto the red carpet heading to the venue.

Tony Stark’s wife is stunning as per usual. Her strawberry blonde locks cascade in soft waves over her bare shoulders, the colour contrasting beautifully against the deep green of her elegant dress. She speaks with a charm and eloquence that’s befitting of a CEO of one of the largest tech companies in the world. And of course, she’s fluent in French, delighting the reporters that interview her.

It’s evening in Paris but Tony has his tinted glasses on so Peter can’t see his eyes very well. He knows the man enough to know that he likes to hide behind them, wears them like armour. He wonders if he knows the man enough to know for sure that the smiles he has for his wife and the cameras look strained, that they’re not the smiles he has when he’s in bed with Peter, the open and naked smiles, the real smiles.

Peter wants to believe that’s true. But even if it is, what does it matter, really? He’s a twenty-year-old watching them on TV in his dingy Queens apartment while eating day-old take-out in his sweat pants. Nobody in their right mind would leave an intelligent, beautiful, powerful, perfect woman for _him_.

_Mi corazón dice cero sentimiento, fuera 'e servicio, lo dejé en mantenimiento_

_My heart says zero feeling, out of service, I left it in maintenance_

Tony buys him beautiful, expensive things. Clothes, shoes, watches, numbers straight into his personal account. Maybe it would have meant something if money meant anything at all to a man like Tony Stark. Those gifts may cost a fortune to the average man, but that ‘fortune’ for Tony Stark would be as if he had bought Peter a hot dog from the vendor down the street. What is a diamond necklace to a man as filthy rich as Tony? Nothing.

But here he is, clasping a beautiful diamond necklace around Peter’s neck, asking softly, “do you like it?”

Peter nods, because it’s true. He does like it. Likes the starlight shimmer of it as he turns this way and that. Likes the expensive weight of it around his throat. Likes the way it looks almost like a collar, a sign that he’s owned by Tony Stark.

(The rational part of his brain reminds him that he’s just Peter. Where would he wear this, realistically? He doesn’t get invited to high society events. There aren’t any red carpets for him to walk, hand-in-hand with a rich, powerful man. When he gets home, he has to hide this away, just like his relationship with Tony.)

Maybe the diamond necklace means nothing, but Peter can get other things money can’t buy. He spreads his legs in thanks, lets Tony push into him with a “God, you’re so beautiful, I love you so much, baby.”

Peter takes those words too, keeps them locked in a drawer with Tony’s other gifts.

_Te has acercao, pero esos cuentos yo no me los creo_

_You got closer, but those stories I don’t believe them_

“I’m so sorry, baby. She just kinda sprung it on me out of nowhere.”

Peter doesn’t want to hear it. He pushes Tony against the door, drops to his knees, a little tug against buttons, and Tony’s dick is in his mouth.

“Oh, fuck!” Tony groans, tossing his head back against the door, hands sliding in to tangle into Peter’s curls.

Wives can do things like plan surprise getaway trips for wedding anniversaries, move schedules around and drop obscene amounts of money on impromptu vacations because not only is she the wife, but she’s also the boss.

“Nggh, you’re being so good for me, baby,” Tony moans, hips bucking into Peter’s face. “I’m gonna make it up to you, sweetheart, I promise. Get something pretty for my good boy.”

Mistresses endure carpet burns on ashy knees and get their throats fucked until they ache, hush money and hollow praise.

It’s not a big deal. It’s not like Peter has any illusions that this is anything other than what it is.

“God, I love that mouth. I love _you_ , baby. _Fuck_.”

Peter pulls away and gets up on his feet, leaving the older man panting and dazed against the door. He slips off the silk robe he’s wearing to reveal Tony’s latest gift, white lacy panties with a heart-shaped cut-out on the backside. He climbs on the plush bed on all fours, presenting his ass to him.

There’s an audible groan and Tony climbs on after him, kneading at Peter’s ass cheeks until he feels a wet tongue at the aching centre of him. Mistresses shouldn’t get love with words, they get it whispered, sucked, and licked in other places.

_Entonces dime para qué fingir, si no hay nada serio no hay que discutir_

_So tell me why pretend, if there is nothing serious there is no need to discuss_

The shelf digging into Peter’s back thuds against the wall with the force of Tony’s thrusts.

They’re fucking in Tony’s office this time. Dangerous. Risky. But the way Tony had looked at him when he pulled him into his office, the naked hunger, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It’s so heady to be wanted, to be so desired that the man would risk everything, his company, his marriage, just to have a taste of him. Peter feels powerful having such a powerful man so senseless with lust over him.

They try to be quiet but Peter can barely hold in his moans with every shove of Tony’s thick cock into him. Tony’s soft grunts in his ear only serve to heighten his arousal, the sounds of their bodies meeting with every harsh slap of skin, such a dirty, secretive thing.

They try to be quick but it’s too fucking good. They had barely stripped their clothing off, just shoved things aside enough to get Tony’s cock where Peter always wants it, buried deep inside him.

Peter is pinned, helpless under the onslaught of Tony’s relentless pounding. Peter feels powerless against the pull of arousal burning in his gut, building with the increasing pace of their desperate fucking. It reaches into his chest, makes him feel … makes him _feel_.

Tony comes with a bitten-off groan and Peter follows, the way he always will, he realizes, wherever Tony goes.

_Y cuando los dos tenemos que mentir, soy la que decide cuando y no sentir_

_And when we both have to lie, I am the one who decides when and not to feel_

Pepper barges into Tony’s office and stops in her tracks when she sees Peter in there.

“Oh!” she says. “Bambi didn’t say you were having company-“

Of course she didn’t. Tony had snuck Peter in without his receptionist knowing.

“It’s fine,” Tony says dismissively, straightening his tie. The movement is smooth, like a habit instead of an actual fixing of his tie after being pulled askew during a bout of frantic sex. Thankfully they were both fully dressed by the time Pepper walked in. “I was just showing Peter around.”

“Right.” Pepper looks back and forth between the two of them. “And Peter is …”

“Peter Parker. My new PA. I think HR sent you a memo or something.”

Tony lies so smoothly. Peter shouldn’t be surprised. The man must be lying to his wife all the damn time. It sends a chill down his spine though, how he realizes that he might not be able to tell when Tony’s lying, he’s so good at it.

“I guess I haven’t gotten to it yet.” Pepper turns to Peter and holds out a hand with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter. Welcome to Stark Industries.”

“You too,” Peter says with a smile that he hopes looks sincere. He can’t look into her friendly blue eyes. He shakes her hand, thinking _I just had your husband’s dick in my hand not five minutes ago._

“Yeah, so. You can see your own way out right, Peter?” Tony’s looking at him like he’s nothing, eyes cold, expression closed off. “I’ll see you bright and early on Monday.”

It hurts more than Peter wants to admit. _I can still feel your come in my ass, you jerk._

“Yes. Of course, sir,” Peter says quietly before leaving.

_Pa' que no no' tengamos que mentir, lo tuyo yo lo vi venir_

_So no we have to lie, yours I saw it coming_

“It’ll be good for you, I think,” Tony says, rubbing Peter’s bare shoulder.

They’re cuddled up under the covers after a round of vigorous sex, Peter’s head resting on Tony’s broad shoulder, fingers tracing light circles on his chest. Another night, another hotel room, another secret rendezvous.

“Plus it’ll look good on your resume and you can go to company events, get your network going. Should’ve thought of this sooner. It’ll be good for me too.” Tony turns over so he’s pinning Peter under him against the mattress. He brushes the tip of Peter’s nose with his, grinning wickedly. “Would be nice to have a fucktoy handy at the office.” He kisses Peter, tongue dipping in at the seam of his lips.

Peter moans as they continue kissing, open-mouthed and filthy, cock stirring pleasantly under the slow, persuasive, grinding motions of Tony’s hips. 

“Could even take you out sometime,” Tony murmurs between kisses. “Tell them we’re going on a lunch or dinner meeting. Take you to that Japanese place I’ve always wanted to take you. You deserve to go on a real date.”

Peter wraps his arms around Tony’s neck and dives deeper into the kiss, licking into his mouth to taste the truth of his words. It’s not about what he deserves, it’s about what he can get, which is always only half of what Tony would be able to give.

And yet, that alone is still plenty.

_No puedo comprometerme, no quiero quedarme, aunque digas que tienes el mundo para darme_

_I can't commit, I don't want to stay, even if you say you have the world to give me_

The guy Peter’s talking to at the bar keeps flicking his gaze down to his lips. It would be so easy. All it would take is a little tilt of the head and they could be making out in the restroom. They’ve been having some pretty good conversation, they could even exchange numbers and maybe this could be the start of something real.

**Baby, I’m home alone tonight. Come over?**

Except Peter has already forgotten the guy’s name, the cut of his stubble is familiar but too dark, too young, and his eyes are too blue. There’s a twist in his stomach that tells him it’s wrong, but what does it know, really? You can’t betray someone who’s not yours. And Peter doesn’t really belong to anyone so he should be able to do whatever the fuck he wants with whoever the fuck he wants.

Except, if that’s truly the case, then he’d be answering Tony’s texts and crawling into his bed by now.

**Been thinking about you all day**

**Wanna kiss you all over, taste you, open you up with my tongue**

Peter pockets his phone and tries to return his focus to … Rick? Beck? Mick? Something like that.

His phone keeps vibrating though and he knows he’s gonna cave at some point because if he truly didn’t want to go then he would’ve turned the function off.

A flimsy excuse and he’s out on the street hailing a cab.

**Wanna feel you on my dick, baby, it’s so hard for you already**

**I’m on my way**

_Nadie elegirá de quién y cuándo enamorarme, así que por ahora tu corazón que se calme_

_No one chooses who and when to fall in love with, so for now your heart, calm down_

Tony’s marriage bed is huge, the sheets luxuriously soft. Tony dozes beside him, relaxed, having spent himself inside Peter not too long ago. Peter feels restless, senses dialled up from being in a space that he clearly doesn’t belong.

He puts on his boxers, leaves the room quietly. The Stark penthouse overlooks a twinkling city that is just as sleepless as he is. The lights are dim but he makes out the little details that make this place home. Not _his_ home, but a home nonetheless.

There’s books on a table, detective mystery novels that must be Pepper’s because Tony doesn’t read fiction. There’s a record player next to a stack of vinyls he knows will contain albums from AC/DC and Led Zeppelin. Peter walks into the kitchen to get a glass of water and he sees a note stuck on the fridge from Pepper, reminding Tony to take his blood pressure pills. He didn’t know Tony needed them.

The cabinet where the Starks keep their mugs is full and as Peter selects one to use, he thinks, a bit hysterically, that there’s no space here for him. What is he doing here? There’s marks all over this house that he can’t ever erase or replace. Once he leaves, there’ll be no trace of him. Tony will make sure of it.

Strong arms encircle his waist and a stubbly kiss scrapes over his bare shoulder. “Where’d you go, baby?” Tony murmurs, sleep-raspy. “I woke up and you were gone.”

“I’m here,” Peter lies.

Tony hums, turns Peter around in his arms and kisses him on the lips, neck, chest, kneels before him to slip his boxers off. As Peter comes in Tony’s mouth, he thinks how at least that’s one place of Tony’s that he’s allowed to leave his mark.

_Que se calme, no quiero enamorarme, yo no quiero quedarme_

_Calm down, I don't want to fall in love, I don't want to stay_

It’s too late. He’s in love with Tony Stark.

Tony had arranged for a car to take him home the next morning, before Pepper would return later that day. Peter’s still in last night’s clothes and he’s sore in unspeakable places. A walk of shame in a chauffeured town car, only the best for Tony Stark’s side piece.

The traffic isn’t too bad yet and he moves through the waking city in starts and stops. His chest is hollow, having left his heart behind in a heavenly room with a skyline view. He’s dropped back down to earth, under the shadow of the looming Stark Tower, gleaming bright in the morning sunlight. Unreachable.

Peter knows the taste of Tony’s cum but he doesn’t know his medical history, what pills he has to take and when. He can send him all the nude pictures he wants but he’ll never leave reminder notes on the fridge. He can take him over the edge, make him orgasm until he shakes, but he’ll never take him on dates, trips around the world. Quick fucks, expensive presents, and dirty texts, that’s all he gets.

He should break it off, he really should, before his heart breaks any further.

**Come see me in my office on Monday**

**I miss you already, baby**

But the thing about being in love is, you take what you can get.

_Que se calme, no quiero enamorarme, no soy de ti ni de nadie_

_Calm down, I don't want to fall in love, I am not yours or anyone’s_

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to hit me up at:  
> sinditia.tumblr.com  
> twitter.com/sinditia


End file.
